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The art that goes into floral arrangements is not something the average person considers. If asked, most people would probably wager that it’s just about matching colors, and maybe creating a nice shape. And sure, those are key components! But beyond that, each flower has energy and meaning and personality, and complex storytelling can be achieved with a seemingly simple bouquet. Some might call it meaningless new-age mumbo jumbo, but it was akin to a spiritual experience for Ty Lee. Using flowers as a language. Crafting each story just so. Making something beautiful and personal and evocative with her encyclopedic knowledge of each piece of flora.
This afternoon’s shift at Li & Lo’s Flower Emporium had been an uneventful one so far. It was the off-season between holidays, so orders trickled in slower than usual. Customer interaction was something Ty Lee thrived on- catching up with the regulars on the local gossip and helping each one craft the bouquets of their dreams. She was always keenly aware that she held the possibility of turning someone’s day around with her talent and her aura and her smile, and she didn’t take that responsibility lightly. So the hours alone in the shop often felt restless and purposeless. She itched to create and connect.
But like most things, she made the most of it all- putting her Spotify on shuffle, turning the stereo up a few clicks, and twirling around freely while fussing with arrangements for the hundredth time.
It was impossible to be too lonely when surrounded by flowers.
She was humming along to Mitski behind the counter when the bell jingled aggressively behind her. She whirled around, prepped with her signature Ty Lee smile. But the standard welcome died on her lips as she took in her newest customer.
It was a young woman, about Ty Lee’s age, dressed head to toe in black. Black doc martens, black jeans, long black peacoat over a black turtleneck. There was a black beret perched on her head of shiny, pin-straight black hair. She had an air about her that might have been off-putting to anyone else, but Ty Lee was instantly intrigued as her new customer crossed the small space to the counter.
Her friends would roll their eyes at her, but she would confidently declare it was love at first sight. She was one of the most beautiful girls Ty Lee had ever seen.
“How do you say ‘fuck you’ in flower?”
Ty Lee blinked in surprise. “I, um. Sorry, what?”
“I need to say ‘Fuck you’. In flower.” Beautiful Girl said in the most cooly unaffected drawl that Ty Lee was instantly addicted to. “You know how flowers have different meanings and shit? I was told you do that here. And I need a bouquet that says ‘fuck you, I hate you, please die’. Can you do that?”
Oh, she absolutely could. Ty Lee let out a thrilled little giggle, rushing to reassure her new customer when her eyes narrowed a bit at her reaction. “No, no I can absolutely do that! You came to just the right place.”
“Great,” Beautiful Girl relaxed again.
Ty Lee bounced on her heels a bit in excitement. “Ok!” She declared, clapping her hands together. “Now help me out, what exactly about this person do you hate so much?”
“Does it matter?”
“It certainly does! The more specific you can get, the more specific bad energy I can weave into the bouquet. And besides, I’m endlessly curious about what they did that was so bad it led to this reaction.” She grinned at the girl. “Wouldn’t want to do the same thing and get on your bad side, too.”
Beautiful Girl looked slightly surprised and amused by her genuine interest. Ty Lee didn’t miss the way she looked her up and down, corner of her mouth quirking up just a bit as she responded, “I don’t think that’s something you’d have to worry about.”
Ty Lee hoped her blush wasn’t as apparent as it felt.
“And fine, I’ll tell you.” Beautiful Girl sighed, leaning onto the counter to rest her chin in her hands. “So my parents are politicians, right? And they’re totally the worst. They’re hosting a dinner party for their dumb rich asshole donors and my mom asked me to get flowers for the centerpiece.”
“Oof.” Ty Lee nodded sympathetically, then hesitated. “And uh, their politics…”
“They’re conservative,” she said, seeming to anticipate what Ty Lee was nervous about. “And I hate them. Like, their own daughter is a lesbian. But no, the fantasy of trickle-down economics is more important to them, apparently.”
Ty Lee’s heart raced a little bit. “Oh. I’m a lesbian, too!” she said, without really thinking.
There was that quirk of the lips again, and Beautiful Girl fixed her with a look that made Ty Lee feel pinned. “Cool,” she drawled, snapping her gum.
Focus, Ty Lee. Deep breaths. She whirled back to the flowers, fluttering her fingers as she talked. “Ok. So. What I’m hearing is that we hate these people because they’re against what we stand for, they’re self-serving and heartless, and we don’t want them anywhere near us. Correct?”
“Pretty much.”
“Perfect.” The familiar feeling flooded over Ty Lee as she threw together a plan- breathe in, drawing energy in, up from the floorboards like roots in a tree, eyes flickering over the walls of flowers around her like they were a puzzle asking to be solved. The pieces click just right. Breathe out. “I know just the thing.”
It was second nature at this point. The flowers just seemed to gravitate and appear together in her hands in the effortless way that melodies flow out of an expert vocalist, the practiced precision of a chef combining flavors. And although it didn’t interfere with the process, Ty Lee was extremely aware of Beautiful Girl’s eyes on her as she worked.
So she made a little more of a performance of it than usual, spinning so her bright pink skirt ballooned up over her thighs just so, biting her lip as she decided between two stems, flitting over to the display on the other side of the counter so she could brush by the other girl.
“Voila!” Ty Lee brandished the finished bouquet with a flourish. It was a bright and sophisticated bunch of flowers, white and pale yellow blossoms of varying sizes surrounded by branches of dark berries. The flowers were wrapped up in dual layers of burlap and lace that was all the rage this season, complete with a yellow ribbon.
“It’s… beautiful.”
“Oh, well, of course. You have to be subtle! If it was an ugly bouquet, they would know the vibes were off. You’ve gotta pull a Trojan Horse, take them down from the inside. Make the drink sweet so they take the poison and never suspect a thing.” Ty Lee beamed.
Beautiful Girl looked more than impressed. There was intrigue bright in her eyes which Ty Lee was thrilled to be on the receiving end of. The feeling of fascination was mutual.
“Walk me through what you put together here,” she said, and Ty Lee eagerly obliged.
“So in the center we’ve got Wild Tansy. That basically means ‘a pox on you and all you stand for!’”
Beautiful Girl let out a laugh just as beautiful as everything else about her. Ty Lee continued, “The yellow carnations signify disdain, and the hydrangeas are for heartlessness. These tall ones are called larkspur. They say ‘you think you’re so cool and so much better than everyone, but you’re wrong’. And I’ve rounded it all out with privet berries, which means, ‘stay far, far away.’ And yeah! That’s it.”
“This is brilliant.” Beautiful Girl said. “You’re brilliant. So you just, like, know the meaning of any flower in here?”
“Mhm!” Ty Lee confirmed, relishing in the opportunity to show off as Beautiful Girl pointed to a few different sections of flowers and Ty Lee rattled off the names and connotations.
“You’re really passionate about this,” Beautiful Girl remarked, tucking her hair behind her ear and holy shit she was wearing clay earrings shaped like knives and Ty Lee was in love.
“I’m the youngest of six sisters,” Ty Lee explained. “All of them were asked to be flower girls in weddings, but I never got the chance. My friends say that now I’m overcompensating and have built my life to be the Ultimate Flower Girl.” She shrugged. “They’re not wrong. But it’s not the worst thing to be passionate about! We’ve all got our thing.”
Ty Lee rang up Beautiful Girl’s order as she spoke. Beautiful Girl handed over a sleek black credit card. Fitting, Ty Lee thought, noting black polish on short manicured nails.
“What about you?” Ty Lee asked. “What are you passionate about?”
“Passive-aggressive messaging, apparently,” she intoned sarcastically. “Floral anarchy.”
“Floral anarchy!” Ty Lee repeated with glee. She’d have to remember that one for later. She noted the name on the card before handing it back with the receipt. “Just need you to sign here.. Michi.”
Beautiful Girl scoffed. “That’s my mom’s card. She gets to write off her own cursed flower arrangement for work. I’m Mai.”
“Mai.” Ty Lee repeated softly. “I’m Ty Lee.”
“Nice doing business with you,” she drawled, signing the receipt with a flourish.
“I hope the dinner party goes well! Or, at least, is tolerable.”
“Oh, it’ll definitely suck. But maybe this will help,” Mai gestured with the flowers.
“Well, I’m sending good energy your way! And don’t worry, the fuck-you bouquet won’t affect your aura. It knows you’re not the target.”
“Thank goodness,” Mai sighed. “Thanks for all your help, Ty Lee.”
She turned to go and it felt like a yank on Ty Lee’s heartstrings.
“Wait!” In a single fluid motion, Ty Lee plucked a few sprigs of violets and tied them together with a black ribbon, handing them towards Mai. “For you, on the house.”
Mai smirked. “And what’s the meaning of these ones?”
“Oh, no meaning!” Violets were referenced often in Sappho’s poetry. “I just thought they’d look nice with your outfit!” In the early 20th century, sapphic women used them to communicate their love and attraction. “And your... hair.”
There was no way that Mai believed that lie after Ty Lee had just spent the majority of their interaction acting like a flower encyclopedia, but she didn’t question it, just stuck the purple flowers into the breast pocket of her peacoat and gave one last smile. “Thanks, Ty Lee,” she said softly, and then she was walking out of the shop.
Ty Lee deflated as the bell jangled behind her. If only she had had the forethought to write her number on the ribbon, or get Mai’s instagram handle, or something, professionalism be damned. The shop felt even more empty than it had before Mai had walked in. Ty Lee was left alone with just the flowers, and Taylor Swift on the stereo, singing ‘and that’s how it works/ that’s how you lost the girl.’
Ty Lee sighed. “You don’t have to rub it in, Miss Swift.”
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A week passed by before those black doc martens made their return to the shop. Ty Lee saw the boots and the cuffed black jeans before anything else, because she was practicing her handstands when the door bell jangled. (It was another slow day.)
She gasped. “Fuck-you flowers girl! It’s you!”
Mai looked down at her. “You’re upside-down,” she remarked, bemused.
Ty Lee giggled and righted herself, smoothing her patterned button up. “I’m so glad to see you again,” she gushed. “How did it go last week?”
“The dinner was dreadful, as expected,” Mai sighed. “But honestly, I felt a lot better having the centerpiece you made. Like, even though I couldn’t scream at them or like, smash a plate, I was still making my statement.”
“Floral anarchy,” Ty Lee whispered conspiratorially, feeling victorious as Mai smiled.
“Yeah. My therapist always talks about finding healthy outlets for negative emotions, so I figure that was a good one.”
“I love that for you!” Ty Lee beamed. “So… what brings you back?”
“Well, you did such a great job on the last one, so I wanted to commission another special bouquet from you.”
“Ooh, hooray! Who are we cursing this time?” Ty Lee asked eagerly.
Mai laughed. “No one today. I actually… there’s someone I want to ask out. And I want to get her a bouquet. I’ve got a hunch she might like something like that.”
Ty Lee had the distinct sense that she was a water balloon that had just been popped and was now a puddle on the floor. Of course, this was just her luck. Ty Lee reminded herself that she barely knew the girl, she had a whole life outside of the walls of the flower emporium. Girls were probably tripping over themselves trying to date her. And Ty Lee was just another hopeless romantic.
She tried to push down her disappointment. Mai needed a bouquet. That was her job. “Great!” she said, though her voice lacked the same level of previous enthusiasm. Reluctantly, she asked, “Tell me about her. Do you have a color scheme in mind she’d like?”
“Something, like, soft and pastel, I think? Not like, red roses or anything.” Mai made a face. “I don’t know her super well, so nothing overly romantic.”
“Ok,” Ty Lee turned to face the flowers as she struggled to keep her expression neutral. “Anything else?”
“I don’t know her well yet, but I know I want to get to know her better,” Mai said. “She seems really sweet, and genuine, and… passionate, I guess. I only met her, like, once, but I can’t really stop thinking about her.”
Wait.
Ty Lee would admit that she could be idealistic and naive to a fault. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that Mai’s description of this mystery girl… kind of matched her, right?
No, Ty Lee, don’t get your hopes up. But there hope was despite it all, blossoming and reaching for sunlight.
She talked through her process as she worked, half to Mai and half to herself. “Peony as the centerpiece. For both romance and good luck. Ranunculus, meaning ‘I’m dazzled by you.’ White jasmine for sweetness.” And because it’s one of my favorites.
“A zinnia for ‘I’ve been thinking of you often,” she said quietly, “and forget-me-not for ‘I hope you think of me often too.’”
She wrapped up the stems in baby pink ribbon and handed the bouquet across the counter. “There’s little cards you can attach with a message if you want,” she offered, gesturing to the display on the counter. Mai nodded and selected a card, scribbling something down as Ty Lee rang her up.
Their fingers brushed as Mai handed her credit card over, a red one this time. Mai’s. Ty Lee, for once, couldn’t think of anything to say, too nervous to think straight.
“Well, best of luck,” she managed.
There was a glint in Mai’s eyes that Ty Lee couldn’t decipher. “Thanks. I hope she says yes.”
And she turned to go and started walking to the door.
Oh.
Puddle-on-the-floor status resumed. No, no, no. She had been so hopeful and now she was crushed. She couldn’t bear to watch Mai go, trudging to the stereo on the back wall and trying to focus on deciding which of her sad playlists were most fitting for the current mood. There was a pretty good yearning playlist she had made that would hit the spot.
But just as she was about to hit shuffle, she realized. She hadn’t heard the bells over the door ring.
She whirled back around to find Mai standing back by the counter, mischievous grin on her face. She was holding the bouquet out to Ty Lee.
“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” she asked, the slight shyness in her voice a sharp contrast to the way she stood and dressed.
Ty Lee was no longer a puddle on the floor (she was getting a bit of emotional whiplash, to be honest). “Yes!!!” she positively shrieked, before clearing her throat and trying to look calm. “I mean, yes. I would like that. Very much.”
Mai beamed as Ty Lee took the flowers. “I’m sorry for the dramatics of it all, I couldn’t resist.”
“No, I- it,” Ty Lee’s head was spinning. “It was perfect.”
“Good.” Mai gave her a knowing look. “I felt pretty confident about it after what you pulled with the violets.”
Ty Lee flushed. “You knew?”
“I’m not that useless of a lesbian that I don’t know about Sappho,” Mai said. “But I’m glad you did it.”
“Me, too.” Ty Lee smiled.
“So, what’s your schedule like? Can I take you out today?”
“My shift’s done at four! I can definitely do something after.”
“There’s a tea shop on the corner a few blocks south of here, The Jasmine Dragon?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve always wanted to go!”
“It’s great. And my best friend works there, so if it’s his shift I can bully him into giving us free pastries with our tea.” Mai grinned.
Ty Lee giggled. “Sounds perfect.”
“I’ll meet you here at four, then? My number’s on the card if anything comes up.”
“Amazing. See you at four,” Ty Lee breathed, reaching out to give Mai’s hand a quick squeeze.
Mai seemed to blush, to Ty Lee’s delight, and she gave her one last beautiful smile over her shoulder before she exited the flower shop.
As soon as the bells were jingling behind her, Ty Lee clutched the bouquet to her chest, bouncing in place to keep from squealing with joy. If the shop had been big enough, she would’ve been doing cartwheels. But instead she rushed over to her phone, queuing up her happiest playlist this time and willing the hours to pass by faster.
She daydreamed about fingers with black nails, one set wrapped around a tea cup and the other set entangled with Ty Lee’s.